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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29077968">a punishment we give to ourselves</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCarrot/pseuds/TheCarrot'>TheCarrot</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>2020 Covid Smut Files [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Triple Frontier (2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anger, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, flirting with danger</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:27:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,225</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29077968</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCarrot/pseuds/TheCarrot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Santiago snorts at the very idea that Will ever thought that HE was the violent one</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Santiago "Pope" Garcia/William "Ironhead" Miller</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>2020 Covid Smut Files [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683301</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>a punishment we give to ourselves</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Coincidently, this was written very, very, very early in the morning... and finished very, very, very late at night!</p>
<p>Please enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>—</p>
<p>Surprisingly the anger comes less after Pope shows back up. There on his doorstep with a sheepish smirk and an offer to the decade long question neither of them had asked one another. </p>
<p>Yes, Pope would like to stay this time.</p>
<p>But that doesn’t mean Ironhead’s anger fades entirely. </p>
<p>Doesn’t disappear on the sidewalk where some unlucky bastard tries to take what little cash is in Ironhead’s pocket. Not in the gym where Will beats his knuckles bloody instead of the woman’s face who spat at him for being a ‘working cog in the machine of death run by the government’. Not at the bar where a drunk throws his drink, glass and everything, at Santiago. Hurls hateful slurs of race at him and worse names when he sees the hand Pope has resting on Wills thigh.</p>
<p>The ensuing fight is short and the drunk goes down like a sack of flour. Sprawled bleeding in a pile of his own urine on the floor with Ironhead looming over him, tall and unbreakable. But oh so angry. Blue eyes cold; hard and unforgiving like everything in his childhood and his work had taught him to be.</p>
<p>Barely feels the way Santiago presses up behind him. One strong line of of heat against Wills back that has no regard for how hard Ironhead is shaking trying to reign in the fraying ends of his temper. Doesn’t hesitate to slip tan fingers around the belt laced through Wills jeans so he can tug him away from the man on the floor. Holds him ever closer during their short walk home. Santiago telling him all the while how gorgeous Will looked back there.</p>
<p>“Like a god among the weak, Will.” Pope hisses, muscles in his neck straining as he presses Ironhead against the door of their apartment. Stepping directly into the line of fire that is Wills anger... rouses it with his words and his voice and his hands.</p>
<p>No. The anger doesn’t go away.</p>
<p>Not with Santiago there to stroke it to life. To bring ember and ash in Wills wake as the shorter man all but adds fuel to the every growing flame. Continuously throws oil on the simmering ire in Ironheads veins as Santiago shoves his way into Will’s mouth. Hungry and searching; pleased yet wanting more.</p>
<p>Desperately seeking a reciprocation that Will doesn’t feel steady enough to give him. Makes Will wonder if he has the power to resist Pope at all as he tears his mouth away. “That’s not a good idea Pope.” He growls out. Pushes harder against Santiago’s shoulders to keep the other man away from him. “I- I could hurt you-“</p>
<p>Santiago... fucking Santiago barely gives Will time to think. Just cocks his head to the side and asks, “Whose telling you not too?” Cool and calm. Like there was never any doubt of that happening when he shoved Will through the door of their apartment. Like he was waiting for it.</p>
<p>“Fuck.” </p>
<p>“That too.” Santiago grins wildly and surging back into another kiss. Eyes gleaming and looking what Will can only call excited. Would call manic if he would pull his mouth away from Popes for even a moment. </p>
<p>But he’s too busy tracing along the heat of Santiago’s mouth. Too busy biting those plump lips and laying dominance as Pope tries to gain the upper hand for himself.</p>
<p>It’s a useless fight. Always is.</p>
<p>Will knows control isn’t what Pope wants.</p>
<p>The same way he knows that giving up his anger isn’t what he wants either. </p>
<p>Yet for all of their wants, it doesn’t stop the anger from slipping away before Will even realizes it. Doesn’t realize it when the raging inferno inside of his chest turns to waves upon waves of molten hot pleasure. Ones that steal the breath from his lungs and manage to takes the very air from the room. Will pulls his anger taut inside his chest. Tighter and tighter until the last of the threads of it break and disappear. Gone like his angers very existence had been just another one of Popes stupid ideas.</p>
<p>And Santiago...</p>
<p>Fucking Pope; with eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back. Neck flushed and stained with darkening bruises. The willing scapegoat to it all. The dam that broke him. That faced down Ironhead’s anger and danced with it. Doesn’t bother to hold it at bay. Just keeps fanning the flames of it until eventually the fire in Will’s veins burns itself out. Transforms it into a smouldering heat that lays waste to anything in it’s path.</p>
<p>Anything and everything that include Santiago’s own demons that the man tries to bury in the thrust of Will’s hips. Can’t hide the reasons why he loves Ironhead like this. Shows it in the fingertip bruises and raised red lines his jagged nails leave on pale skin. Writhes beneath the blond as every stroke builds and builds the tension inside of him.</p>
<p>Until just like Will’s anger, it falls over the edge into something else. Into helpless gasping breaths and the very opposite of what it had started as. The sheer depravity of it and all Will can do is watch. Watch and follow after Santiago with a hoarse shout. Two sides of the same coin. Anger and control. All of it falling away as they slump backwards, tangled together.</p>
<p>“You know... one day that’s not gonna work.” Ironhead sighs into the curve of popes shoulder. “One day I’m gonna hurt you for real.”</p>
<p>Brown eyes just crack open to stare back at him and Santiago has the gall to look vaguely amused. </p>
<p>Like Wills anger is a laughable thing. And maybe to Santiago it is.</p>
<p>Will isn’t the first devil Pope’s danced with. He just happens to be the first one that didn’t want to hurt him back. It’s refreshing, really. Fills up so many broken parts of whatever’s left of his soul with emotions neither of them have a name for. Lets Ironhead’s anger plaster over all the empty places inside of him in a way that makes him feel alive. Even if it is only fleeting. </p>
<p>Ironhead shakes his head. Falls back onto the pillows and sighs up at the ceiling. He knows he’s not going to change Pope’s mind, wonders why he even tries still. Is well aware that the man next to him flirts with death and blood and pain the way Will flirts with a normal life.</p>
<p>With deadly accuracy, razor sharp teeth and spent rounds. Taunts in whispered pleas and silent screams. Reaching... yet not quiet touching.</p>
<p>Santiago slips back against Will, curls into his side like he’s not baring already darkening marks on his wrists and thighs from him. “Promise?”</p>
<p>Will scoffs. He doesn’t need to promise that one day he’s going to hurt Santiago irreparably. It’s a fact. The only thing Will doesn’t know is when it’s going to happen.</p>
<p>Open mouth kisses trail up his chest and Will doesn’t have to look over at Pope then. Doesn’t want to. Doesn’t want to see the eagerness in the set of Santiago’s mouth, the open ended promise that one day Ironhead will give him more than just these ephemeral marks of his.</p>
<p>Will give him something truly lasting.</p>
<p>Santiago snorts at the very idea that Will ever thought that HE was the violent one.</p>
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